


Surviving the Battle

by Foxtrot909



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, One Shot, not really smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-31 08:08:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18587215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxtrot909/pseuds/Foxtrot909
Summary: I think we can all agree that we want our favorite couple to survive the Battle of Winterfell. This is my version of how it could go down. First time I've ever posted. Hope someone likes it.Also just a warning, I killed Dany. I just feel like it's gonna happen and I'm trying to come to terms with it.





	Surviving the Battle

Arya lay staring blankly and contemplating the last year of her life. Her choice to turn away from her revenge and toward the people she loved had reawakened something she had forgotten when Gendry had said he couldn’t be her family all those years ago. She had shut down the parts of her that were moved by love. She had to focus on her revenge to become the deadly assassin that she now was. But then she heard Jon was alive, was King in the North, and Sansa was there too. 

She had returned to Winterfell, knowing in her heart that it was the right decision. She had set out on her path of revenge because of love, and love was the only thing that could make her turn away from it. Her love for Sansa had grown and their relationship had blossomed into what their mother had always hoped, even if they were both unmarried and Arya flat out refused to wear dresses. Bran was still her baby brother, and she still felt a rush of affection every time she saw him, even if he wasn’t really Bran anymore. Reuniting with Jon, her heart had been just as full of love for him as it was the day they said goodbye, all those years ago. 

But there was absolutely nothing that could have prepared her for the love she was feeling as she lay beside Gendry, missing the feeling of being full of him. From their first interaction, she could sense the change in the way he treated her, in the way he was looking at her. She knew it would not be difficult to seduce him on the eve of battle. But it had been so much more than that. The way he had said her name, for the first time calling her “Arya” instead of m’lady, she could hear in his voice that it was more than just a fuck to him. She could hear the love. When they had kissed and were undressing, the way he had smiled, of course she had smiled back because she was always happy if he was. 

This was love, the kind that her mother talked about, built over years, stone by stone. All those years ago, they had laid the foundation, built on friendship and absolute trust. When they had parted, they laid more stones, even if they had caused pain at the time. He had to walk away because he thought he could never be good enough, she would always be above him. And she had fought for him when the brotherhood had sold him. He laid more stones by spending the intervening years working his way to Winterfell, where he always should have known he’d end up. She laid stones in Braavos by working through her vengeance, which she had to do in order to find her way back to him. 

She knew in her heart that she couldn’t stand to lose him now. She listened to his slow breathing as he slept peacefully beside her, and she turned so that she could study his face, memorize it. She rolled onto her side and curled around his arm, resting her head on his shoulder. She wasn’t sure how long she stayed like that, wide awake, taking in his smell and basking in the glow of their love, but eventually the sound of the horn blowing three times brought her back to the present. Gendry stirred at the sound as well, before sitting up very quickly, pulling his cloak that they had been using as a blanket with him. Arya hissed as the cold air hit her exposed skin, and Gendry turned to look at her.

“Arya!”

“Yes?”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, then “I thought it was a dream.”

Arya smiled and pulled him down into a searing kiss as the horn blasted again. “We need to get dressed. It’s time.” 

They both dressed quickly, sharing shy glances as they put on all their layers. Arya grabbed her new quarterstaff and her bow, made sure her dagger was secure, and then Gendry grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the storage room that had been their haven for a couple hours. They hurried through the courtyard, hand in hand, and into the forge where Gendry grabbed his hammer and a dragonglass axe, and handed Arya a quiver of arrows with dragonglass tips, before heading back out to the North gate where they were to meet Jon and Sansa. He was busy reminding people of the plan, giving a few last minute directions as Sansa directed the women and children to the crypts. As they approached, neither Jon nor Sansa seemed to notice their clasped hands, Jon just barked out, “Gendry, you’re going to hold the gate with the Unsullied. Arya, you know what to do.”

As Gendry made to follow Grey Worm out the gate, Arya pulled hard on his hand, pulling him down to her and crushing her lips to his before growling “Don’t you dare die.” She released him and ran off to do whatever secret mission she had planned, Gendry turned again to follow Grey Worm, trying and failing not to notice that Jon was glaring at him. If they lived, he could beg for his head after the battle. He did not notice the confused but pleased smile that played on Lady Sansa’s lips.   
******  
Arya sat in a dark corner in the tunnel that led out of the Godswood, waiting for the cold that Bran had told her to expect when he arrived. She was focussed on her task, working hard not to worry for her loved ones fighting. The ones she just got back. She was silent, listening, waiting. Her time being blind made it possible for her to sit in the dark, not needing a torch. She knew exactly where she was.

She heard the cold before she felt it. Like every molecule of air was frozen. It was not a sound so much as the total absence of it. Arya slipped out of her corner and moved swiftly, just like a cat, back down the tunnel, lighting the torch that would signal to the dragon queen and Jon that he was close. She moved on through the trees, to the opposite side of the pond as where Bran was, melting in with the trees, unseen by all but Bran, who she knew could see everything that was happening. She crouched down and waited. She watched as nothing happened for a few minutes, and then the silence of the crushing cold caught up with her. She lit the second torch, and threw it at the pond, the final signal for the dragons to close in, and moved on, skirting the long way around so she could watch from the rise behind the heart tree, swift and silent. She passed behind him, the Night King, about fifteen feet, but he was either not very observant, or he was focussed only on his prey, the three eyed raven.

She watched as the two dragons began diving, blasting fire at the pond as the night king passed over and Theon pulled Bran’s chair back as quickly as he could. She watched as the water evaporated in a plume of steam, and she watched as the steam dispersed to reveal the Night King still standing. He was burned, and angry, but his spear was unaffected, and he took aim.

Arya didn’t know which dragon his spear hit. She didn’t know if it was Jon or the dragon queen who went down with the screeching dragon, over the walls of the Godswood. What she did know was that the Night King was facing away from her, and she knew with a well placed jump off the rise on which she crouched, she could be on him in two bounds, maybe before he would even know she was there.

The whole Godswood shook as the massive beast hit the ground, and Arya sprang. The dragon had everyones attention, and Arya had bounded towards the pond and had her quarterstaff through the Night King’s heart before the ground stopped shaking. 

There was a shrill keen, almost like a scream, but one made by death. Nothing living could make that sound, and Arya collapsed to the ground, clutching her ears as the Night King burst into a thousand pieces of ice. 

There was silence for a second, across the whole castle and the battlefields beyond. Then there was an earsplitting roar. It must have worked. He was gone. The dead were gone. Death was defeated just as the sun broke over the Eastern horizon. 

Not today, Arya thought, rising to her feet and picking up the quarter staff. She would have to thank Gendry. Again. She turned and saw Bran staring at her, and he almost looked surprised. Then he said words that turned her insides colder than the Night King had. 

“Your blacksmith. He’s hurt.”

Arya stared at him for a split second before turning and running for the North Gate as fast as her legs would carry her. 

She burst through into the aftermath of the battle, which was total chaos. She saw bodies everywhere, and the living rejoicing, but she did not see Gendry. She scanned quickly and then headed further out. She looked at every face she could see, every body in case it was him and he was unconscious. After a while she realized maybe he had already been taken inside the gates to be treated. 

She turned and headed back for the castle. She passed by Brienne of Tarth and Podrick Payne carrying Jamie Lannister’s body back to the castle, she passed other people looking for survivors among the bodies. She would help them once she knew if Gendry was okay.

She arrived back in the courtyard and saw Jon watching the scene, motionless. She walked over to him, placing a hand on his elbow.

“You’re alive,” she said. He said nothing. “I’m sorry. I know you loved her.” When he still did not respond, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders in a brief hug, but she had to move on. She could comfort Jon later. She made her way back by the disused kennels, outside which Sansa was directing the treatment of the injured. Sitting close to the supply station being tended to by the wildling that Arya thought was named Gilly, was Gendry. He looked like he was probably stabbed in the shoulder, but he was sitting up and he looked alert. 

“Gendry, you stupid bull, I told you not to die!” She yelled, storming up and punching him in the uninjured shoulder.

He didn’t even seem to notice the punch, but simply smiled up at Arya like she was the sun. “I just needed some scars to match my lady,” he said, looking slightly dazed. 

“I’m not a lady.”

Gendry grabbed her hand and pulled her down to sit on his knee with his uninjured arm and said quietly, “No, you’re not a lady. But you are my lady.”

“Stupid,” Arya said, before melting into him and kissing him passionately, careful to avoid hurting him.

Sansa was watching all of this with interest as Gilly came to stand beside her.

“They’re sweet,” Gilly commented.

“Who is he?” Sansa asked, utterly perplexed. Ser Davos Seaworth joined them at that moment.

“His name is Gendry Waters. He’s the only surviving bastard of Robert Baratheon,” Ser Davos supplied. 

“When did they meet? I know my sister, she doesn’t want to kiss knights or fall in love, this didn’t just happen since you all arrived.” Sansa said, still trying to work out what she was seeing.

“That I don’t know My Lady. But I can tell you he’s a good man,” the old smuggler said before moving on.

Arya was now picking up where she had interrupted Gilly and was gently cleaning Gendry’s wound, before bandaging it. By the time she had finished, Jon had wandered over, still shellshocked. Bran and Theon joined them shortly after. 

“She killed him. When the dragon fire didn’t work. He killed the dragon and she sprang out of nowhere while he was watching it fall and put that staff through his heart,” Theon explained.

Sansa knew Arya was dangerous, deadly even. She knew she had killed, she had watched her do it. But it was hard to imagine little Arya taking down death himself where two dragons had failed. But it was still easier to imagine than what was taking place right before their eyes. They watched in silence and Arya helped him stand up, leading him out of the courtyard and into the castle.   
********  
Arya led Gendry into her chambers. They weren’t big, the same ones she had used as a little girl, but they were warm and comfortable.

“Sit,” she commanded, pointing to the bed. Gendry obeyed, collapsing back against the pillows and looking exhausted, wincing slightly as he adjusted his injured shoulder. Arya set to work lighting a fire, and once she got it going, she went back over to the bed and helped Gendry out of his boots and leathers. Once she got him settled under the blankets, she kissed him gently on the lips and said, “Rest,” before turning for the door. 

“You’re not staying?” He sounded so sad, but Arya was smiling warmly when she turned back to him.

“I need to go help. You’re safe, and I’m uninjured. I can help with the injured, and with the dead. I’ll come check on you around midday.”

Gendry looked like he would like to stay with her, but as he made a movement to get up, he gasped with the pain in his shoulder. Arya walked back over, pushing him back against the pillows. 

“Rest. I’ll be back before you know it.”

He finally closed his eyes and relaxed as Arya slipped out of the room.  
*********  
Sansa saw Arya reemerge from the castle and followed her out the North Gate, curious what she was going to do next. There was still so much about her little sister that she didn’t know. But Arya simply began helping locate and carry the injured into the courtyard. Sansa approached her as she was returning out of the gate. 

“You killed him. The Night King.”

Arya looked up at her as they fell into stride together. “It was nothing. Just protecting my family.” 

“Your family. Does that include… what was his name? The blacksmith?”

“Gendry.” Arya was quiet for a moment. “I asked him to be my family years ago, and he turned me down.”

“I would hazard a guess that he might have changed his mind,” Sansa said, smiling down at her sister, hoping to cheer her up. That man was in love with this strange little assassin, Sansa saw it in a matter of seconds. “Did you take him up to your rooms?”

“Yes. He needs rest, he needs to heal quickly.”

Sansa tried not to roll her eyes at her impulsive sister. “Arya, we could have found him a room, it’s not proper for you to have him in your room and you know it.”

Arya did not try to suppress her eye roll, before smirking and saying, “If you think that’s improper, you’d be pretty upset to find out what happened in the storage room by the forge last night.”

“Arya!” Sansa could still not quite believe what she was learning about her sister. She loved this man. She had for years apparently. He was strong and handsome, and the bastard of a king. And apparently as inclined to ignore propriety as her wild sister. “Don’t say that to Jon, I think he’s considering killing him already.”

“He can try,” Arya said, looking fierce. “I killed the Night King. What are you all going to do, tell me I can’t be with the man I love?”

“You’re never going to stop using that to get what you want, are you?” Sansa asked.

“Probably not,” Arya said, and the sisters laughed together before returning to the wounded that needed assistance.  
*********  
Gendry woke, feeling warm and smelling food. He opened his eyes and saw Arya carrying a tray full of soup and bread and a jug of water. He eased himself into a sitting position, before carefully standing up and moving over to where Arya had set the tray on a small table. He wrapped his one good arm around her waist from behind and placed a kiss on her neck.

“How are you feeling?” She said, her face etched with worry as she turned around to look at him.

“Alive,” he said, still amazed that they had lived, amazed that the dragons had managed to kill the Night King, amazed that it was over. He gently pressed his lips to Arya’s, hoping to pour all of his love, his joy, his everything into the kiss. Arya broke away quickly though.

“You have to eat,” She said. “You need your strength back soon, I’ve never been patient.”

He smiled at that, before allowing her to settle him into a chair close to the table. She grabbed a bowl of soup and a piece of bread and began eating. He stared at her.

“I’m not going to feed you, your left arm works just fine,” she snapped, scarfing down her own meal.

Gendry pulled the other bowl towards himself with a chuckle.  
********  
Later that evening, Arya disappeared for a while. She came back carrying a bag Gendry recognized as the one he kept by his cot in the forge, the one that had all of his belongings. She set it on the table and opened it.

“What are you looking for?” He said, worried. He didn’t think there was anything he didn’t want her to see, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Your sleep clothes, stupid,” Arya said as she continued rummaging.

“I don’t have any. I usually just…” he trailed off.

“Oh,” Arya said, flushing.

“Come here.”

Arya walked over to the bed, sitting down so that she could grasp the hand of his uninjured arm. 

“Arya,” he knew what he needed to say, but he had no idea where to begin. “You asked me to be your family once. I said no.” Arya looked away, her eyes shining, and she tried to pull her hand back but he held on tight. “That was the biggest mistake of my life. You are the only family I’ve ever had. I’m so sorry.” She looked back at him, and he saw for the first time that she was still hurt from his rejection all those years ago. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she said, leaning down to capture his lips. She moved to sit astride his hips, as she had done the night before. Their coupling was much slower and gentler than it had been the first time. It was maybe the only time in her life that Arya had been careful, trying not to hurt Gendry. He barely noticed twinges of pain in his shoulder as he watched Arya rise and fall above him, holding eye contact the whole time until they both reached their peak together. Arya moved off of him just as carefully. She got up and extinguished the candles, stoked the fire, and then crawled back into bed beside him. He pulled her into his side, left his arm around her shoulders.

They had so much more to discuss, so much more to work out. Gendry would go ask Jon to legitimize him and let him marry Arya the next day, and Arya would use her leverage as the hero of the battle to convince him. Gendry would find out in front of everyone that it had been her that killed the Night King. But for that night, death was defeated and they were together. Neither of them could ask for more as they both drifted off into a peaceful sleep.


End file.
